Birthdays

My dad knocked on my door, "Hey Tiff. Dinner's ready," he smiled and then gently shut the door. I didn't want to eat I wanted to play. I lied down on my lemon-yellow bed and stared at my ceiling.

My room is the same as it was ten years ago, a tiny slanted attic room, white washed walls and one miniscule window that looks over our gardens. One thing to know about my family is that they were very rich. They used to live like royalty... until my dad ruined everything. Now I'm the only one left in my bloodline. I still live like a royal. But it took a lot to get where I am. When my mum died my dad used to go away a lot and I didn't know where. My nannies looked after me well when he was gone but I never had that feeling to be loved.

My dad used to come back late at night and the more times he left, the less people he had to work for him until there was just me. I like to close my eyes and try to re-live the positive moments in my life. Like the last dinner I had with both of my parents. Or the time when I bought my sheets with my mum.

My house is very much isolated from the shops, so going out to buy stuff is a treat, even though we were loaded with money. My house is Victorian or, so I've been told. It's very large because the whole family was supposed to live there, but one by one, they passed away. The last relative I have is a very old great, great aunt who's in a mental asylum. Dad left just over a year ago, so I'm on my own... apart from the Duke Valetia the fourth, or most commonly known as, Sebastian. That's obviously not his real name. But he is in a portrait outside my bedroom and when I was younger, I needed a friend, and thus, Sebastian was born. He's my oldest friend, and my only friend. He lives in the Grand Hall, just opposite my bedroom. I remember when my mother found the portrait outside our front steps and decided to bring it in. My dad had never liked him and sometimes they argued about the portrait, to this day I still don't entirely know why.

Today is my birthday so Sebastian and I are celebrating, with toast and avocadoes. But right now, the sun hasn't even started to rise, and the moon is still gleaming in the darkness. I yawn and feel the room turn dark as I fall into a deep sleep.

"Come on Tiffany!" my dad called from the kitchen. I fumbled with my pastel pink tutu and hopped down from my bed to look in the mirror. I stared at the girl. She could copy my actions exactly, almost if she knew what I was doing. She was my first friend, until my dad told me that it was a special type of metal behind glass, or something like that, I wasn't really listening I was too busy crying at the harsh reality I had just been told.

The world is pitch black. The little girl is gone but her crying rings in my ears, wailing and wailing for the loss of her friend. Then everything stops. And a new nightmare comes to play.

"How could you do that to her!" my mother wails, "She looked up to you Peter! You were her idol!" I can hear a tinge of jealousy in my mother's voice. As if she knew that my dad was better. The only reason he was better was because I knew he would do anything for me. I could just feel it. Even if he didn't say it, I knew. I hear a click, I try to cover my ears and run but I just can't move. My feet are stuck to the ground with a deep red liquid. It looks like blood and it smells like blood. It's crusted around my bare feet and suctions me down to the ground, as if it's trying to swallow me. I'm waiting, waiting to hear the noise that will end this. The nightmare. A life. A world even...

My ears fill with sound of the bang and I rocket upright in my bed and bang my head on the ceiling.

"Jiminy Crickets!" I cuss. The pain is excruciating. I rub my head as if it'll make things better and starts to open my blinds with one hand. I know I'm still not fully awake. The reason for this is because I can see my dad in the garden.

I'm paralyzed. I blink once and stare out of my window. I bring my hand down from my head and look at the sticky substance in my palm, the colour coats my hand and I look at it, wincing. I ping my head up and cuss under my breath because I've realized the person is gone.

I spring out of bed and throw on my dressing gown over my fluffy pajamas and grab some socks and hop around trying to put them on my feet. I fling open the door and smile at Sebastian, who –in my head- says "happy birthday, my lady". I giggle at him and at finally being sixteen, just one year younger than Sebastian now. I race down my stairs laughing and smiling. I slide into the kitchen with my socks and bash into the counter, which gets more giggles -and pain-. I lie on the floor for a while until I decided that I shouldn't be as lazy and pull the freezer door open. I root around in the top drawer until I think I find what I'm looking for. I pull out the blue ice pack and stretch to put it on the counter. I slowly stand, I'm still giggling like a madman when I grab a face cloth and dab it on my cut. I'm sure all the blood's gone so I press the ice pack over my forehead. I can't help but laugh to what an eventful birthday I'm having, and it's just started.

I stop laughing. I look out of our fish bowl window and out onto the grass. There's no one there but I feel uneasy. I get up a slowly tiptoe to the back door. A pull the curtains across the windows to prevent anyone from being in the garden. I know this doesn't really work but I think the things I can't see can't hurt me. I lean against my window and sigh. The sun on my back is tickly and warm, cozy. I slowly sink to the ground; my head is frozen. I immediately pull the ice pack from my forehead.

The warmth on my back has disappeared. It was nice having the sun for a little while... I turn around and see that the sun hasn't disappeared, but that there is someone at my back door...

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